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Opting for secession
Sep. 12th, 2005 05:23 pmYesterday, as part of my ongoing industrious effort to convince ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bowdlerized that I live like a tidy adult, I cleaned out my car, threw out papers and catalogs and diet-soda cups, and also, apparently, one paycheck from the bookstore, which okay, I know I don't live on this money or anything, it basically just supports my fiction habit, but throwing away a paycheck is going a little far in my disregard for the material. Well, let's face it: I do not actually have a disregard for the material; I just think the concept sounds fine and noble. Which makes my throwing away a paycheck all the more cretinous.
Luckily, after spending the morning unenthusiastically contemplating rooting through a week's worth of trash to find a single paycheck, I found the check at lunchtime, doubling as a bookmark. So now no digging through trash will be necessary. But still. Still. This doesn't speak well for my efforts to fake a tidy life, does it?
:::
It's so pretty today outside, and I ate my lunch sitting under a shady tree and reading. I always feel rejuvenated when the first, early days of autumn hit, and here it is especially gratifying, because those days come at least a month earlier in Georgia than they did in Louisiana.
There's so much to look forward to in fall, even aside from the summer things I am always glad to leave behind. I am an autumn kind of girl, all the way, and it's early days yet, of course. Weeks before we get a full dose, in the deep south; it hasn't even got properly cool yet, here. But I am fingering my sweaters longingly, watching the weather reports and standing outside with the dog at three in the morning straining to feel a hint of chill. I'm thinking of my vacation in October, wherein I will kill about four birds with one stone--yes, my aim is just that good--and see old and much-missed friends and maybe new and much-missed ones as well, and also, for the first time, travel north along the Atlantic seaboard and drive my way into the season proper, and if you didn't think of autumn as a destination, you clearly did not grow up in the Mississippi Delta.
:::
Also I have a new crush on a house. It is newly single, my crush, a little bungalow, and it has a yard big enough for a dog to run (even a dog who does not happen to be hobbled) and small enough to mow easily. Corner lot. Basement. Big projecting front porch. In my neighborhood, which I'm very fond of indeed. And best of all: it is within my budget. I am calling the real estate agent and setting up an appointment for the weekend.
:::
I am still angry. I am still feeding my anger unhealthy amounts of news. I am still despairing of the part of our country which can so easily discount the suffering of its populace. Of any part of its populace, any race, any class stratum. It's been a long summer, and a painful one, and a scary one. And the summer is almost over now. These little demarcations and surprises are enough to make the ritual of getting on with life just a little bit easier.
They have to be, really. How else would we survive?
bowdlerized that I live like a tidy adult, I cleaned out my car, threw out papers and catalogs and diet-soda cups, and also, apparently, one paycheck from the bookstore, which okay, I know I don't live on this money or anything, it basically just supports my fiction habit, but throwing away a paycheck is going a little far in my disregard for the material. Well, let's face it: I do not actually have a disregard for the material; I just think the concept sounds fine and noble. Which makes my throwing away a paycheck all the more cretinous.Luckily, after spending the morning unenthusiastically contemplating rooting through a week's worth of trash to find a single paycheck, I found the check at lunchtime, doubling as a bookmark. So now no digging through trash will be necessary. But still. Still. This doesn't speak well for my efforts to fake a tidy life, does it?
:::
It's so pretty today outside, and I ate my lunch sitting under a shady tree and reading. I always feel rejuvenated when the first, early days of autumn hit, and here it is especially gratifying, because those days come at least a month earlier in Georgia than they did in Louisiana.
There's so much to look forward to in fall, even aside from the summer things I am always glad to leave behind. I am an autumn kind of girl, all the way, and it's early days yet, of course. Weeks before we get a full dose, in the deep south; it hasn't even got properly cool yet, here. But I am fingering my sweaters longingly, watching the weather reports and standing outside with the dog at three in the morning straining to feel a hint of chill. I'm thinking of my vacation in October, wherein I will kill about four birds with one stone--yes, my aim is just that good--and see old and much-missed friends and maybe new and much-missed ones as well, and also, for the first time, travel north along the Atlantic seaboard and drive my way into the season proper, and if you didn't think of autumn as a destination, you clearly did not grow up in the Mississippi Delta.
:::
Also I have a new crush on a house. It is newly single, my crush, a little bungalow, and it has a yard big enough for a dog to run (even a dog who does not happen to be hobbled) and small enough to mow easily. Corner lot. Basement. Big projecting front porch. In my neighborhood, which I'm very fond of indeed. And best of all: it is within my budget. I am calling the real estate agent and setting up an appointment for the weekend.
:::
I am still angry. I am still feeding my anger unhealthy amounts of news. I am still despairing of the part of our country which can so easily discount the suffering of its populace. Of any part of its populace, any race, any class stratum. It's been a long summer, and a painful one, and a scary one. And the summer is almost over now. These little demarcations and surprises are enough to make the ritual of getting on with life just a little bit easier.
They have to be, really. How else would we survive?
